


Loyal Soldiers

by Tallywack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas if you squint, Gen, S8E10 Torn and Frayed, Spoilers, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallywack/pseuds/Tallywack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has a more intense flashback after killing Samandriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyal Soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this shortly after the episode aired, so I'm sure it'll be Jossed soon. Pretty happy with it considering I wrote it at 5am and it only took me an hour. Hope you enjoy the whump!

Castiel shuddered. He wasn’t sure what… Everything was hazy. Something had happened. He was still with Sam and Dean though. Same spot. They were looking at him. Why were they looking at him? Had he been saying something? Why couldn’t he remember?

“Cas? You alright buddy?” Dean queried, worry clear in his expression.

Nod. That was the proper response. At least he thought it was. He wasn’t sure now that he’d done it. Something felt decidedly _off_. He couldn’t pin-point it though. When he tried the haziness got worse, made his head spin. 

He shook his head slightly to clear it, but it only made things worse, lost thoughts rattling around inside his head. They were bright. They hurt. Why did it hurt?

“You, ah… You sure about that?” Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes searching. 

Castiel knew that Dean would not hurt him, was incapable of it really, and that the human was only seeking to show his concern. So why was he jerking back? Dean clearly just wanted to help, soothe this unknowable hurt, why was he afraid? Nothing was making sense inside Castiel’s head. Not his thoughts, not his reactions, not the haze or the bright, sharp pain.

Why was there pain?

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to block out the brightness, but closing his eyes only seemed to make it stronger. Images flashed through his mind, snapshot fast. A white sterile room, a strapped chair, piercing spikes of metal, blood. The phantom pain spiked sharply and he couldn’t help but cry out, falling back against the impala. There was something wet on his face.

“Holy shit! Cas? Cas! Look at me,”

Dean was next to him again, hands burning like brands on his shoulders. He forced his eyes open to gaze upon Dean’s familiar face. It was filled with concern, and just a trace of panic. 

The angel reached up slowly, wiping lightly at the wetness on his face. Blood. He hadn’t been injured. Had he? He wasn’t certain of anything right now.

“Cas, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I-I’m not certain. There’s a room,” he faltered.

The moment he actively tried to think about it the pain hit again, flaring sharply. More memory fragments surfaced with the agony. A woman, he knew her name but could not remember it, the chair, though this time he was trapped in it, a spike, similar to the ones that had been buried in Samandriel, _pain, pain, Pain, PAIN_.

Castiel could hear himself screaming but was unable to cease. He knew logically where he was and what was happening, but a part him was so certain that he was still in that room with the woman. 

Dean was shaking him, pleading with him, though he couldn’t make out the words. He was distantly aware of brief flaring lights and shattering glass, knew he was screaming with his true voice, knew it would hurt the Winchesters, but he couldn’t stop. 

Instead of pulling away, running, like any sensible creature would, Dean held him tighter, arms wrapping around to hold him close. Castiel pressed his face into the man’s jacket in a failed attempt to escape the burning light. He felt a hand on his own suddenly, gripping tightly and guiding it up to rest on an arm.

He couldn’t physically feel it through the jacket, but the heat of the handprint on Dean Winchester’s shoulder burned hotly against his grace, the bond cutting through the blinding agony in his head. It wasn’t enough to stop it, but it was enough to ground him. He stopped screaming, though the phantom pain was still intense, and gradually the memories stopped flashing through his mind. Once they had ceased completely Castiel was uncertain what they had even been of, save for the pain.

He noticed after a moments calm that his vessel was shaking. It didn’t typically do that. Dean was still clutching him tightly, and this was something the angel was currently quite alright with. The contact was calming. He let his body go limp in Dean’s arms, an impossible weariness overcoming him as he continued to kneel there.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Dean pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him properly. The hunter’s eyes were intense in their concern, the hint of panic still hiding at the corners. “You alright?” he asked shakily.

“I believe so,” Castiel replied, voice slightly more rough than usual. He wiped at the trail of blood down his face.

“The hell was that Cas?” Dean asked, desperate to understand what had just happened and prevent a reoccurrence. 

Castiel pulled away from the hunter and stood warily on shaking legs. “I’m not entirely certain.”

“Great, that’s just great,” Dean laughed, an edge of hysteria in his voice.

“Was it like some kind of sympathetic pain thing?” Sam asked, “You were pretty out of it when we were trying to get Samandriel out too,” he glanced shortly at the bloody body on the ground as he said this.

“I don’t think so,” Castiel sighed, leaning heavily against the impala.

“Well what the fuck can do that to an angel then? Cause it sure as shit isn’t something we’ve gone up against before,” Dean growled, the drop in adrenaline making him snappish.

“I don't know,” Castiel stooped to retrieve his fallen comrade’s body, “but I will look into it when I return Samandriel’s remains.”

“Wait, wait, wait, woah. Slow down Cas. You just had god knows what happen to you, you’re still shaking for christ’s sake. Just, maybe wait a little before making the trip up to corporate?” Dean had moved to put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder but the angel hefted his burden and stood smoothly before he got the chance.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time,” Castiel replied, an unfounded sense of urgency pushing him to go.

“Come on Cas, just-“

The rush of displaced air and the sound of great wings were all they got. The angel had gone.

“God damn it,” Dean sighed with feeling, shoulders slumping.

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Sam said in a voice of forced optimism.

“He better be,” Dean said, glancing up toward the sky before heading for the impala.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Castiel,”

The memories were crystal clear now.

“you need to stop fighting it.”

He tried to pull away, useless in these bonds.

“You of all should know that disobedience only brings pain.”

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“If you’d just stayed a good little soldier we wouldn’t be in this awful mess in the first place.”

He knew what was coming, knew he wouldn’t be able to fight it.

“If only you hadn’t met those bothersome Winchesters. We’ll soon fix that though.”

The look on Naomi’s face was one of predatory excitement.

Castiel screamed in raw agony as the sharp instrument pierced through to his grace.

Naomi had a smile like broken glass as she pressed into the base code of the broken angel, rewriting it to suit her needs.

Heaven would have its loyal soldiers. One way or another.


End file.
